There they are again

The doubts. If I will actually go on with med school or not. But I made a deal with myself that if I don’t get a scholarship for next year, I’m gonna stop pursuing it and start working. I can’t afford to leech on my mom anymore, literally, especially since she doesn’t have a job yet, we have no source of income, and we’re left with debts from dad’s… well, dad’s cancer and passing. There are so many unfinished tasks. I did get some parts in my horrible eulogy about him right, but I don’t think I’m holding it against him, especially since I believe he’s already up there, at peace.

I’m just having a hard time dealing with how we should, well, deal with this. I absolutely don’t know where I will pluck that huge sum of money.

I do believe God will provide. He always has. So I don’t really know why I’m worrying right now. These days do come.

I am a work in progress. I just told my mom about how amazing it is to explore Christianity, how beautiful it is to grow in a relationship with God, but at the same time, I am also struggling with bitterness, especially with what’s happening, or what happened to our family. I try not to let bad thoughts get to me, but some days are harder than others. Moreover, I’ve also become a cynic. I immediately think the worst of people, that their only intention is to extract what they can from others, that they are only here to hurt me. I justify it with the fact that we’ve had a rough past few years.

If I keep on justifying, I will always find excuses. I will keep on being cynical and bitter. I will practically be a hypocrite, listening to how God’s grace is sufficient, but still be discontent with life. That’s very conflicting. So I realized I am a work in progress. It will be slow, it will be hard, but I believe I will get there.

October 12, 2014

That was the day I promised to surrender my life to Jesus Christ.

I’ve always been Christian, all my life. I’ve believed all my life, and I’ve tried to be a faithful follower. But that’s the thing – I tried. It doesn’t mean I actually did. Moreover, it doesn’t mean I succeeded. I don’t expect myself to succeed 100% of the time. I’m pretty sure God doesn’t expect that, too, because we aren’t at all perfect. But at least, to the best of my ability, I will do it, not just try.

I’ve believed in Him my whole life yet I also let myself slip, especially when temptations get too strong. The past few years have been ridiculously difficult for me and my family, what with dad’s cancer, our finances plummeting, my brother’s clinical depression and everything that goes down with it. People think cancer is one-sided, that everything that matters is that the subject is about to die. That it will suck your finances down the drain. The problem is much more complex than that even though it is already overwhelming to begin with.

I believe our God is a good god, so even though I am a sinner, I know I can ask for forgiveness, sincerely, and commit my life to Him. It’s gonna be a hard road, but it will all be worth it in the end. Our pastors tell us to just concentrate on what life is like in heaven. It is probably beyond awesome.

To conclude, I had written something in my journal a few weeks ago and I’d just like to share it:

I am absolutely in love with the fact that Jesus sweat blood in fear when He asked God if He could take away the suffering the next day was going to bring Him… but God said no. I am not in love with Jesus being in agony. I am in love with the thought that He could talk to God about anything at all, even about His deepest fears. His wishes. He could talk to God about His wanting to stop suffering. He could be as human as to wish for comfort, but He is also as godly as to agree to die for the sins He never committed.

Most of the time, we want our sufferings taken away by God. That’s God’s job, we think. After all, He’s very powerful. What’s the use of all that power if He says no all the time? A good parent will never want to see his kid suffer and will do anything to protect him from all the worldly hurt. Then again, that was exactly what God did. He gave His only Son to die for us, something a worldly parent can never ever do (although Abraham did come close, for entirely different purposes, but even God stopped him).

I read my journal from 2010 to 2012

And I was 85% lovestruck idiot, 15% angry teenager.

I guess this is why I will never send my kids (if I will have any) to an all-girls or all-boys school. I realized that a huge chunk of my school life was spent in a pool of estrogen, that the moment I step into a pool of mixed estrogen and testosterone, I freak out, because I’ve never tasted testosterone before.

I’m glad I’m not as boy-crazy as I was before, although I still think I am, nowadays. But not as horribly. And besides, the only guys I tend to pine over nowadays are actually worth pining over. Not because I saw them in a magazine, not because they’re cute, or not because he’s the only one who will ever like me. Although I realize I actually do have a weakness for guys who smell uniquely good.

I would like to believe I like just one guy right now. He’s cute, he’s warm, tall, a bit on the chubby side but only because he’s been eating a lot lately (he used to be quite thin). He’s really, really nice. He rarely cusses, he’s gentle, and he’s a good conversationalist. Plus, he’s a Christian. I think my mom thinks he’s perfect.

I’m writing this with a British accent in my head because I just finished watching BBC’s Sherlock. It was an awesome show. Jim Moriarty is a terrifying villain, even more terrifying than supernatural characters, because he’s human. We’re humans, too. Does that mean we can be capable of heinous things? The TV shows nowadays seem to think so.

Also, The Walking Dead is back. Agh, my do TV shows have to be so good, and why do they have to make us wait so long? I’m talking about you, Game of Thrones. Any other TV shows worth watching that will leave me gripping my chair in suspense?

Random thoughts for today

  • I do not like asking for help, especially when it’s from people I’m not close with or don’t trust, especially now that we’re in a pretty dire situation. I’ve discovered that a lot of people in the world are opportunistic worms. They don’t care if your father just died. They will suck as much blood from you as they possibly can, and it sucks.
  • I also pretty disappointed in someone I love. So disappointed, I can’t even bring myself to say what my relationship with her is. I looked up to her and I thought she cared for us that she’d readily offer anything she could to us if we needed her. I thought she had our best interests at heart, but I guess she has a different view of that. My mom asked her for a small favor, if she could let us store some of my dad’s stuff at her house especially since we’re gonna have to move out in two weeks and we don’t know where we’re gonna put all these things. But she refused, and I feel as if she isn’t even trying to help. Her excuse is that we should learn to stand on our own. But we wouldn’t be able to do it all without outside help. And she hasn’t contributed to outside help… financially. Maybe morally.
  • Okay, fine. It’s my dad’s sister. And mom asked her if we could dump some of my dad’s stuff at her house – which is practically the house where my dad grew up – and she refused. When I say “maybe” morally, she is a pretty wise woman, and she gives the best advice. But she’s also contributing to my issues with Catholicism. If you don’t know yet, the Catholics in my family tend to be really strict. They aren’t open-minded. I used to feel persecuted back then, but that’s just water under the bridge. For now, I’m just disappointed with this recent event.
  • When I “like” something on Facebook, it means I really like it. I don’t “like” it just to let people know I acknowledge it. Even if everyone’s “liking” it but I don’t like it at all, I won’t “like” it.
  • My dog has a purulent wound on his balls. I don’t know what to do. This is the first time it’s happened and I realized that fur does not tie up around that area as much as it does in the other areas (he hasn’t been groomed for months because we were all busy with dad) and now, it’s just getting worse. I asked my friend who’s about to become a vet about what to do. I’m pretty worried and sad, because he cries at night. It must hurt quite a lot.

For some reason

I have lost the ability to care too much. I say ‘too much’ because, of course, I still do care. I’m still very much conscious about others. I care about what people think of me, I care that maybe there’s something wrong with me, which makes them not care about me.

But I realized some people don’t care about me because I don’t care enough about them, even though it would be a great opportunity to get to know them more. I haven’t felt the need to please people in quite a long time. I’ve been satisfied just being on my own, maybe pleasing myself, because for me, it means I’m getting through. I felt like all possible bad things are happening to me that I can’t afford to invest in people anymore, yet I expect them to invest in me… which is really stupid of me to expect.

This is why I’m pretty surprised I do have friends who have been here with me till the end. I always thought no one cared too much, but they do, and I’m really shocked and beyond thankful for that.

So, lesson learned. Do try to be more empathetic. Do try to lift your head above the surface. You don’t always have to be in the deep and dark. People can actually pull you to the shore… only if you let them.

What do you think about this:

When doctors estimate the time you have left to live?

I told my family over lunch one time that I wish my dad’s doctor made it clear to us that he was about to die. I have mentioned that from where I am, people do not do well with confrontations, so our doctors, at most, just told us that he wasn’t doing very well. They didn’t tell us my dad was dying. I only knew he didn’t have much time left 36 hours before he passed.

I felt a bit enraged about this because it made me think they didn’t know what to do months before, and it made me wish I actually did know. These doctors must have encountered patients like my dad over and over again before. Moreover, my dad’s pulmonologist charged us a huge sum of money, when he didn’t actually do anything but look at my dad’s oximeter and check his breathing. I’m only a first year medical student and I don’t need a stethoscope to know that he was struggling. I do like my dad’s oncologist. She didn’t charge us anything except for a small sum, for taxes. But I was disappointed that she didn’t foresee that the last chemotherapy session the week before he died probably killed him.

My aunt, though, has a different viewpoint. She says she’s proud of the doctors for not saying anything, because only God can claim when a person will go. I believe that, too, but I also believe in science. I actually appreciate science in line with God. Every time we have Anatomy lectures, I think about God and how beautifully intricate the body is. I appreciate his creation, and I’m thankful for the opportunity to know about these things.

Since science has advanced tremendously, I believe doctors have a way of knowing how the body will deteriorate and can estimate how much time it has, although I also do believe in miracles. I believe they should’ve just told us what they think, that he didn’t have much long.

But come to think of it, I commend the doctors for not giving up on my dad, for believing he could still go on. My dad had hope that he would live, especially since I’m still in medical school and my brother hasn’t graduated. He had a lot of plans for the future. The doctors believed that my dad could actually hurdle through this again.

Everyone thought my dad had nine lives. He had somehow cheated death throughout his life. I found out some things about him only after he died. When he was around five, he got lost with his brother after convincing him to go home from school without waiting for their parents to pick him up. According to my uncle, they were actually walking on railroad tracks when a police officer found them. My grandma must’ve been very worried. My dad was also involved in a car accident that totaled his car. He came home all wounded and bruised as if nothing happened, but the ones who were with him were sent to the hospital. My dad had a license to fly private planes and helicopters, and he was a scuba diver, too. Unfortunately, he was a heavy drinker and a smoker. He didn’t believe in exercise, and fatty foods were his life. If he didn’t tolerate that lifestyle, he could’ve lived a hundred years. Since he was diagnosed three years ago, he’s had countless chemo sessions, four seizures, four times he was put on a mechanical ventilator. He’s had his skull cracked open for an abscess to be removed. I was so used to him falling unconscious and waking up again as if nothing happened. I just didn’t know the fourth one was the last one.

But my dad is human, and God wanted Him back. God wanted Him in peace. That, I can’t question, and for that, I’m thankful.